


Come on Back

by Ranni



Series: Mirrors [2]
Category: Avengers, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Clint Needs a Hug, Gen, Phil Coulson is worried, Phil Needs a Hug, Protective Phil Coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 12:40:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9727286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranni/pseuds/Ranni
Summary: Phil brings his team to Russia to kill the Black Widow, but he is afraid one of them won't be coming back.





	

They flew into Russia, timing it so the team would make their landing in the dark, like always.  
  
Phil Coulson stretched his back, wincing at the loud pops. The Quinjets flew more smoothly now--they used to vibrate so much in the holding area that Silverfish had sworn they would get Shaken Agent Syndrome--but the seats were no more comfortable than before. Phil sighed. Maybe in the next redesign.  
  
His small team sat checking their weapons, the final time before the drop. They finished quickly and then both began checking his partner's equipment. Clint tightened the straps on Silverfish's uniform more and more until the older, larger man finally laughed and snapped "Uncle! Fucking _uncle_ , Hawkeye, you douche." He kicked over Clint's quiver, deliberately scattering the arrows. "Oopsie daisies!" he exclaimed, eyes wide and innocent.

Clint just grinned as he picked them up. The Quinjet gave a lurch just then, but Clint's balance was enviable, he didn't stumble at all. Phil's stomach, on the other hand, did a slow roll.

"Alright, get it together, Team Delta," he said finally. He held out the files. "Come on, give these a last look." Silverfish gave an exaggerated sigh. "At least pretend to look at them. Make Papa Phil happy."

Both men took the files, opened them. They had read them before, briefed on them extensively back at base, but Phil did not believe one could ever overprepare. He had lost agents before on missions, did not want to lose any more. The current target was especially dangerous. The Black Widow was not to be underestimated.

"Do we know what she's doing in the city?" Clint Barton asked again. "Who she's after?"

It was the fourth time he had asked, and something about that was unsettling to Phil. Clint asked questions about missions all the time, he was not an automaton, but he seemed uncharacteristically hung up on this detail. "We don't know," Phil told him again.

"What the hell does it matter?" Silverfish was either all jokes or all business. The repeated question irritated him. He tossed the file back to Phil. "Whoever she doesn't get to kill is a lucky bastard. For today at least."

Clint shrugged, looking at the picture--a scowling Natasha Romanov. "She looks young." His voice was uncertain. "She's just 19. Just a kid."

"Well, her birthday is next week, then she'll be older," Silverfish shot back. "Not that she'll see it. Not with Doug Gaines in the field!" He whooped and threw an exaggerated double punch into the air.

Phil rolled his eyes and shook his head. Clint did not laugh as he usually would at Silver's theatrics. He thumbed through the file, double checked the birthdate, saw Silverfish was right.

Silverfish frowned at Clint, who did not notice. Silver glanced at Phil, raised his eyebrows, nodded in Clint's direction, made a questioning face. _What's up with him?_

Phil shook his head. He didn't know. Something was off and he didn't like it. Finally Clint snapped the file shut, handed it back to Phil.

"Ready?" he asked them. They were. Phil nodded, called in to headquarters. "Commence Operation: Angel. Strike Team Delta in the field, with Agent Phillip Coulson in operations. Agent Douglas Gaines, codename Silverfish, on ground assault, Agent Clinton Barton, codename Hawkeye, on elevated assault. Agents going in separately, first drop to commence in approximately fifteen minutes." He snapped the communication device off. "Alright," he said, his tone still all business, "who wants goodies?"  
  
"The Candyman!" Silverfish crowed, and Clint grinned. A few years back Phil had had disguised their emergency extraction beacons in packages of candy as a joke. Somehow the joke had taken a life of its own, and they continued doing it. This time Silver's was hidden in a pack of gum. Clint's was a Pez dispenser, and when he saw it he laughed with delight.

"Look, it actually works," Phil showed him. Clint laughed again, and shot a piece of Pez into his mouth.

"Wait, his really has candy in it?" Silverfish looked scandalized. "What the actual hell, Phil??"

Clint shrugged. "He can't help it if he loves me more."

"Everyone loves you more, but it's only because they feel sorry for you, Assface." Silverfish snapped back, but there was no malice in his voice. No one cared for Clint as much as Doug Gaines. They had been partners for over than ten years, and were like brothers at this point. Argued like brothers, too.

"Put your comms in," Phil instructed, and they did. Clint worked his jaw, trying to get the earpiece to settle in more comfortably. "Check?" Phil asked. They both answered affirmatively.

"Okay, then, if we are done getting gussied up, it is time for another Dougie Danceathon!" Silverfish pulled a CD from his seat. The other men rolled their eyes, but tradition was tradition. They always played a song before a drop. Always. Clint sat next to Phil, waiting.  
  
"Tonight we have something extra special, in honor of Phil Coulson, aka The Candyman, aka The Necktie Ninja, aka Mr. Boringface McSassypants--That's a new one," he added in a dramatic stage whisper. Phil raised his eyebrows and Clint snickered. "In honor of OUR boss, I present THE Boss!" Silverfish turned on the music with a flourish, blaring Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark."  
  
Phil couldn't help but laugh helplessly as Silverfish danced wildly, at first emulating Springsteen's dance from the music video, then throwing in his own moves. There was a lot of kicking and jumping. "Come on, kid!" he waved Clint over. "Dance with me! Atta baby, dance it up!"

Laughing, the friends moved together, Silver spinning Clint and then dipping him dramatically. "Enough, dear God, enough!" Clint cried finally, sitting down. Phil wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

"Next time Candyman dances with us," Silver insisted. He always said that.

"Yeah, that will never happen," Phil promised. He looked up at the digital clock. "Okay, Doug, time to get a move on."

They were serious then, and Clint turned off the music. Silverfish clipped the line to his belt. He would be dropping to the ground at the pilot's signal, when the Quinjet went low. He motioned to the others. "Get close, guys, get close."

Another ritual for a team that had many of them. Silverfish put one hand on the back of Phil's neck, the other on Clint's, pulled their foreheads to his. "Dear Lord, protect us as we do our duty. Protect the innocent lives around us. Guide us and let justice be done. Help me to make good decisions, help Phil to watch over us, and help my boy Clint to be safe, and not do anything dumb, like get his fool self killed."

"Amen to that," Clint murmured solemnly, and they stayed that way a moment longer, then pulled apart.

Silverfish took the opportunity to slap Clint across the face, laughing in triumph at being able to catch him. Barton was quick.

"Son of a bitch!" Clint groaned, hand to his cheek. "You know, I don't think a prayer counts if you hit someone at the end, Fish."

"Are you kidding? It counts _double_!" Silverfish smiled broadly, stepped to the open door, ready.

"I want radio silence on main channels until I contact you--approximately seven hours from now," Phil told him. "You two coordinate on channel four so you don't trip over one another." Silverfish nodded. "Take the target down. And come on back." Another ritual. He put a hand on Silverfish's broad shoulder.

"I'll come back," the man promised, and turned to his partner.

Hawkeye put a hand on his other shoulder. "Come on back."

"I'll come back." And at the pilot's signal he dropped silently from the jet.

A moment later the cable was released and came zipping back. Clint clipped it to his own harness. Phil pulled the straps, double checking. They were tight. He still had an uneasy feeling.

"Barton--" he started to say, but it was already too late, already time. "Come on back," he said instead. "Come back, Clint."

Clint smiled at him sadly and said "Goodbye, Phil." Stepped backwards and disappeared into the night.

At the same moment Phil reached out, tried to grab him, tried to pull him back, but his fingers caught only the air. He leaned precariously over the edge of the door, looking for Clint in the darkness, seeing nothing. A second later the cable came zipping up, empty.

Heart pounding, Phil sat in his seat. He considered aborting the mission, calling them back. But he couldn't do it, couldn't do it because of a bad feeling, couldn't pull the plug on two months of planning simply because a man had not answered him in the usual way.

Seven hours. Seven hours till he made contact with them again. They would be alright. Phil was pretty sure they would be alright.

He waited.

Seven hours later only Silverfish answered.

Barton was gone.

 


End file.
